It's twenty past noon and I just finished successfully cleaning a toilet and the main bathroom sink. That may not sound like much, but I'm feeling a tad bit proud. Four minutes into the chore, my back yelled at me to go sit down. So I did, for three minutes, then went back and finished it.
I need to dust my master bedroom and clean the adjoining bathroom's toilet and sink, too. But I'll have to rest awhile.
I do everything in piecemeal. Five minutes here. Five minutes there. I suppose I should be grateful I'm able to do this much. I know several folks who can't.
I sit here in between 5-minute work sessions and tune into Easy Listening music. It seems to actually calm my anxiety. I get too worked up over not being able to do things anymore. It's silly. "Be still and know..."
I freshened my water pot on the stove with more peppermint and eucalyptus oils. The air smells so fresh. Relaxing. Resting lets my mind wander to the list of things I'd love to be getting done. Alas, the voice whispers again, "be still and know".
I try, I really do. But the list mocks my resolve.
So do the few items scattered about the living room. The sweater and scarf I dropped on my walker last night when I got home from church. Little things beg to be picked up and put in their places.
After I get my bedroom dusted, I may try to tackle hanging a painting that's been leaning against the wall for three years. Maybe. I may not be able to reach the spot where the nail needs to go. That may have to wait 'til after my back ablation. And maybe my knee replacement.
I'll have to see.
Living in a piecemeal world means waiting to see if I'm able. Yeah, it's frustrating. But I'm getting through it all. Piece by piece.
chaotic complexity. Not total chaos, mind you. I like calm. I like serene and simple. I long to be the still stream that slowly moves its current beneath the surface graced with driftwood and debris.
I look at decorating styles-- the classic grouping of 3, 5, or odd numbered items. I like the balance. But for some reason I am always adding just a little bit more to the simple vinette I create with primitive bowls, copper chargers and raku pottery. I can't seem to help myself. One day I am content with my arrangement, then the next I am adding a bit more color, or removing an object to another space in an effort to quiet the mood.
I truly am a simple kinda gal. I love the country elegance and calm ambiance I see some ladies create with monochromatic colors. I want to be that simple-- that chic, that sleek. Unfortunately, that desire is overrided by my overactive creative imagination. I'm always changing things. Always seeing a better way, another emphasis I want to make. I really should have an extra bedroom, bath, and living area so I could redecorate it every other week or so.
One day I love country primitive and rustic. Then next I wallow in the romantic schemes of lace and ribbon. I'm constantly trying to create that balance between raw masculine stability, and soft feminine grace. Am I the only one like me?
In a sense, I believe you are, too; in your own way, you are exactly like me. You are you and because you are, you are unique--just as I am unique. In our uniqueness, we each find our comfort zone from the depths of our own individuality. Just as one friend is content to live without changing the placement of traditional accents with an occasional addition of new items, another friend is at peace with total minimalism. Then there is me. See something we love and then try to figure out how we can work it into our eclectic decor.
In the end, I know why this is so...we are each created with our own package of likes and dislikes. In some cases we are conditioned by our our childhood environments. In other cases we develop our style as we fall in and out of love with various themes that feed our souls, quiet our spirits, and motivate our creative muses.
I thank God I am me:
"...because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:14 NIV 1984
yeah, I do
like me and the way I am: Content to live with what I have, yet not so
satisfied and set in my ways that I am not flexible or willing to
change. I've moved over 30 times in my nearly 65 years. That's a lot
of moves for some folks--a lot of changes. I've tossed a lot of memorabilia out in those
moves. I've lost a lot of treasures. But I've also found joy in
searching for new ones. Yet, just as I have lost and left behind material things, I've gained a deeper appreciation for why I am here.
My number one aim in my home is to make it comfortable for my husband, my family and friends--to bring glory to God in all I do with it. I want strangers to feel as welcomed and relaxed as my family and friends. After all...
"...unless the LORD builds a house, its builders labor over it in vain; unless the LORD watches over a city, the watchman stays alert in vain." Psalm 127:1
And just who wants to labor (or decorate) in vain?
FOR A TEENSEY PEEK AT MY HOUSE TODAY....CLICK HERE.
AND FOR A BIT OF VICTORIAN FROM MY OLD HOUSE...CLICK HERE.
AND FOR A LITTLE BIT COUNTRY FROM YORE...CLICK HERE.
AND WHY? oh Why? I Blame My Stepmother... CLICK HERE.
Once in a while, you come across a junk-transformer /slash artist. And when you do, if you are a good person, you HAVE to share this genius and magic with the rest of your world. This particular transformation begs for you and me to go dumpster diving and find ourselves a homeless piece of yard-sale trash and perform decorating surgery.
Can you believe that the gorgeous shelf above came from these two items below?
Absolutely amazing creative juices flow in this artist's veins. We can all get a creative transfusion by visiting this site/HERE.
TEN STAR "feminine matters" RECOMMENDATION by hariette petersen
But you know something, this reminds me of another recommendation I was given many years ago. I, too, went through an amazing transformation when Christ took my self-centered, dirty, trash-ridden life and worked His grace-fueled power in me. I still sit amazed as I type these words to you. And whenever I see a piece of junk transformed into a work of beauty, I am reminded of what God promises:
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away, and LOOK, new things have come," 2 Corinthians 5:17
And someday, when Christ returns to claim His own transformed creations, like me, the One who sits on the throne in Heaven above promises:
"Look! I AM making everything new." He also said, "Write because these words are faithful and true." Revelation 21:5
And when God creates a new earth, we will spend eternity with Him in all our glory as glorified creatures of love.selahV today
It's a myth that cells in our body literally change (regenerate, rejuvenate), every 7 years. Completely bogus. My cells have changed so much I've turned into an old lady. I read somewhere if I played games on the internet that it would help me retain brain cells. I figured writing my thoughts will do just as much. If I forget myself, I can always go back and read about who I once was.
At one time I rejoiced in the process. The years gave me perks. Twenty-seven cent coffee at McDonald's, free entry to the Waterpark, 10% off at Ross's Department Outlet, and occasional respect from those younger than I. Getting older was a good thing.
Lately, another side to age forces me to look backward into time. It's probably because it is my 64th birthday.
My Water-park pass went from free to fifty dollars this year. Rules changed when ownership changed. Now I have to be 65 to qualify for free passes. It's okay--it's something to look forward to. After all, they have to make more money. It's understandable. I've enjoyed free entry for three years. What a blessing to be able to take my grandchildren to enjoy the water and not have to pay to take them! This year, not so much. My body is changing, and doesn't want to move as quickly as it once did. It's harder to stand in the wave pool without falling over. It's harder to be around crowds without being bumped and knocked off balance. It's harder to endure the sweltering heat.
One more year and I'll be on Medicare--maybe (I guess it depends on the politicians). One more year and who really knows what life will hold?
Birthdays have a way of creeping up on you. There is real irony in birthdays. When you are eighteen, you wish you were twenty-one, then when you're 64 you still wish you were twenty-one. Some things never change. We're never satisfied, no matter how many changes we make or brain cells we keep. selahV
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:" Ecclesiastes 3:1
I'd like to be young again. I'd like to run like I use to. Play volleyball with the youth. I'd like to swim, jump on the trampoline with my granddaughters. I'd like to climb the rocks at Mt. Scott and explore the cracks and crevices. I'd love to be able to, not only pick colors for my little efficiency apartment, but climb ladders and paint the walls and pack my belongings for our impending move.
I know that's silly. But for a little while...it would be nice.
It would also be nice if I could go back to December 9th, 2010 and leave my house just a little bit later, or earlier. Either one would be sufficient to avoid the timing of Mr. Luna driving through a stop-sign and crashing into my car. At least before that day, though I could not do all the things above, I could still paint pictures and enjoy doing puzzles with my granddaughters. I could play more freely with Kinsey and Haylee. I could bend a little farther, sit up straight a little longer. I could make plans and carry them out; go to my Tuesday painting classes, and make commitments believing I could keep them.
Ironically...
God has used this physical trial to bring about another dream of sorts. You see, when I first started blogging in 2006, I wanted to build a website where I could share thoughts with other women about common thoughts-- our faith, our love for children and grandchildren, recipes we like, and mundane miscellaneous chatter. I wanted an online magazine-style site. I can't believe that I am getting closer and closer to harmonizing the blogs I write. Had I not been so limited (for fear of creating another agonizing twist in my neck), I wouldn't have been able to mesh my sites like I imagined. I wouldn't have taken the time to learn all the things I need to learn to link each site together with various buttons and feeds. I've still got a bunch of work to do before I'm satisfied. It's kinda like my life in Christ.
"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6 ESV
God began a good work in me. He will bring that work to completion. In His time. And part of the completed work is what I do and what I dream to do. It's nice to dream-- even "for a little while". Can you relate? If so, tell me the dreams you are dreaming in the comment box below. What trial are you facing that's taken you to a place you had not expected? I'd really like to know. selahV for Today
A dear friend of mine, who blindly loves me with all the grace of God, face-booked me this comment: "BTW what does frumpy mean? Because I must have the wrong definition. You, my friend [are] anything but frumpy."
Ya simply gotta love a friend like that, don't you? I needed to assure Mary that I was indeed frumpy. I considered what it meant to me. So given the fact that since Thanksgiving, I've added another 15 pounds to my excess of 75, I answered: "Frumpy: a sloppy, colorless, wad of bleh! LOL."
Dressing room mirrors in all the local stores confirm it. I tried on some rather nice little articles of clothing last week--things I'd seen others wearing that seemed sooooo chic and stylish. Folks. Let me tell ya something. Short people can't wear the same cheetah and fox faux-fur vests that taller folks wear-- unless said "short people" can shop outside the fuller-figure racks of clothing. All the stylish bulky sweaters do is add more bulk. All the lime-green, magenta, clingy, thinner fabrics do is accentuate the negative rolls and wads one wants to camouflage. So adding color to the "wad" isn't necessarily the answer. It kinda calls attention to it. Ever notice how the larger the size, the bigger the flowers and stripes are on the fabric? I have. A five-foot-one and, uh...chunky person dressed in tight-fitting or loose-fitting tee-shirt material is frumpy. Plain and simple.
Couple that with my hairstyle (which hasn't been cut, or shaped in a year), and I qualify for at least one definition of frumpy. Oh, what to do, what to do...
Gotta have a strategy...a plan of action...a resolve. Ya know? Exercise is an option. And maybe a higher consideration to diet?
Okay...I guess the trip I made to the grocery yesterday could count for exercise. But I don't think the Nutty Bars, Cheezits, Eclairs and Vienna Fingers I purchased could be considered helpful, unless I give them to all my tall, skinny friends at church tomorrow. Do you? selahV
I AM...so you don't have to be. Such a profound statement, don't you think? How often do we fret and worry over things we cannot control? How many things in your day today are you truly able to effect or change? And if you can't, what does it matter? We don't have to BE God. We don't have to live as though we do. We don't have to pretend that we are. We have as much of God as we allow Him to be in and through us.
I saw this ad at one of my friend's links. It is for an online Bible-study.
I AM...SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE.
Gosh that title intrigues me. It woos me. It beckons. Stop trying to play superwife, supermom, supergrama, superwriter, superhomemaker, superChristian. I am not God. I cannot do it all. I cannot to it perfectly. But He can...the great I AM. May we all remember that when we face the giants we need not fight in life. Let God have them. He brought them into my life or allowed them to enter. So let Him fight them. I don't have to because I'm not God. Thank the Lord. I haven't participated in this online study written by Lisa McKay. But perhaps you will want to. Just thought I'd mention it in passing as I write it down on my to-do list. selahV
For those of you who read all my blogs, my back is a bit better. I can sit a little longer at the computer. But I still cannot get into my van very well. Nor can I bend over or move quickly. Must always keep in mind not-to-move at the waist. Am sleeping in my recliner--helps keep my back from getting stiff. Praying I get better quickly because I'm suppose to get my granddaughters for the weekend. And we are planning to build a Gingerbread House at church for a Christmas family-night. I will still be able to build the house, but would like to be in better shape. (Had also thought about bowling for a treat on this visit, but I guess that will have to come at another time.)
~~~
Don't you just love this time of year? I'm going to have my hubby pull out all the Christmas decorations today. Ha! this is gonna be fun. Will report later on the "rest of the story". selahV
Recent Comments